We wait
for the
right
time
as if
time
cares
to be
right or wrong
Something Humans Do (A Poem)
Poetry
The Real Answer (A Poem)
You ask:
“How are you doing?”
And I answer:
“Okay.”
A polite
(brief)
interaction,
done exactly right.
And a lie.
Here is
what I want
to say:
“I’m breathing,
trying
my very best,
and getting up
every day.
I’m sad,
and stressed,
and waiting
for this awful thing
to pass.
It will,
I know,
but the time in between
feels endless.
I’m not okay
(thanks for listening)
but I will be.”
Soon (A Poem)
Winter whispers
through the fields
and the forests,
breathes new life
into the silver moon,
soft and steady and still.
Only a tingle of ice,
a mist of frost
in the air,
It says:
Not quite time,
no,
not yet there,
but soon.
Two Nature Haiku (or, a November Poetry Challenge!)
It’s been a little while since I’ve participated in Rebecca’s monthly poetry challenge over at Fake Flamenco. November’s is to write a haiku about something in nature that fascinates you, and that’s right up my alley. So, here are a couple of offerings.
Though we may hold on
Nature knows when the time’s right
To just let things go
Bare limbs twist and reach
Like wanting hands to the sky
Hungry for winter
I’m particularly inspired by nature in fall and winter, and I love the change in the color and light, and the bare limbs of the trees. So, this challenge came along at the perfect time! And if you’d like to join the fun, you’ve got until November 13th. 😊
On Halloween (A Poem)
On Halloween,
the unseen, seen,
and we all wear our masks.
Costumes, a show,
but who really knows
what’s real
and what’s pretend?
Our days,
they go,
slow and then fast,
and time just
ticks and ticks.
We bend,
some break,
some fix mistakes,
and all must meet
the end.
But for one night,
one night each year,
it’s easy to forget –
in that space,
masked face to face
we’re all
children again.
High Spirits (A Poem)
Though you may
bury us,
we rise.
From ashes and mud,
blood and bone,
we remake ourselves
from the sand
and the stone
that covered us,
smothered us.
Though we are
gone,
our spirits are
strong.
We climb,
we reach
our withered fingers
into the sky,
and sing the song
no man can
silence.
Though few may
hear,
we will sing
for those listening.
Lucky Red (A Poem)
The color of
fortune
and
fervor,
of mornings
and sunsets,
of fate
and flair
and feelings
and flame
lays its claim
to the leaves
again.
And we –
only passing and
making our way
in this world –
we get to see
for the briefest time
this lucky red
that dyes
the ties
that bind.
How fleeting,
fading fast,
it seems,
and nothing lasts,
they say.
But this,
surely this
we can hold,
always there,
bright
and bold,
in our memory.
Weekend Rain (A Poem)
Picture it:
A cool breeze
and a constant drizzle
in the newly gold-tipped trees,
and inside
a warm house,
two lovers sit by a fire,
drinking tea.
“Rain all weekend,”
says the one, and
“That’s not so bad,”
says the other.
And it’s true,
you know –
there are worse ways
to spend
a couple of days
than inside, together,
just watching
the autumn world
turn damp and gray.
To Grow (A Poem)
To fade,
to fall,
to create space –
Nature doesn’t just
let go
in autumn.
It makes room
to grow.
Curiosity (A Poem)
In your life,
may you be
curious.
I wish you
questions,
and the
patience
and the
time
to find
answers.
I hope you
feel the joy in
not knowing,
and in
learning
and growing.
May you never lose
that
spark,
that wondering,
wandering
eye,
that makes you
think
and try
and ask,
“But why?”
A Virginia Writer's Diary 